


taking what i want and calling it mine

by lucylikestowrite



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex, bc that’s mostly what this is, but you can ignore it if u just want fluffy smut, there is the teeniest bit of angst at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-12-26 09:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18280130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucylikestowrite/pseuds/lucylikestowrite
Summary: Ava falls, slamming down onto her back with a thud. Sara smirks, pins her down, legs bracketing Ava’s hip, and rests her forearm lightly on Ava’s throat, her other hand propping her up, where she hovers over Ava’s face.“Just slit your throat, baby,” Sara says, tilting her head.Ava just rolls her eyes, then closes them, her muscles relaxing. Her head tips back, and suddenly all of her throat is on show, and it’s like she’s asking for Sara to lean down, to press a kiss there, to open her lips and let a tiny bit of tongue press through.or: a little bit of post sparring sex





	taking what i want and calling it mine

They’re both breathing heavily, sweat shining all over their skin, hair falling out of the ponytails they’d pulled it into an hour ago.

Neither of them are holding back, and there are bruises on both of them, grazes in their knuckles, because Gideon can heal anything, and it’s important to get actual sparring practice where you’re not pulling punches, where you’re acting like it’s a real fight.

At first, Sara had been reluctant, but, the more they sparred together, the more obvious it was that Ava was almost a match for her, that Sara was getting bruised almost as much as Ava was, and that she didn’t need to worry about it not being a fair fight. In their first couple of months together, Sara had won about sixty percent of the time. But, the more they worked together, the more they trained, the more Ava got to know every single one of Sara’s moves, learnt from her, the more even they got.

Now, it’s about fifty-fifty. Sara’s never quite sure who will win, and that makes it fun. Means that she really has to work at it, to get her heart pounding and her muscles burning if she wants to have a chance of winning.

She hits out, connecting with Ava’s jaw, and Ava winces, wiping away the tiny amount of blood that’s come out of her lip with the back of her hand. She’s never looked hotter, and, for a second, Sara’s distracted, and Ava gets a blow in, hitting her stomach, and her legs buckle a little under her, and then she sees Ava’s grin, sees that she thinks she’s won, and she exaggerates the buckle a little more, lets her knees give way just enough for Ava to let her guard down, just enough for Sara to shoot her leg out, sweep Ava’s legs out from underneath her.

Ava falls, slamming down onto her back with a thud. Sara smirks, pins her down, legs bracketing Ava’s hip, and rests her forearm lightly on Ava’s throat, her other hand propping her up, letting herself hover over Ava’s face.

“Just slit your throat, baby,” Sara says, tilting her head. “I win.”

Ava just rolls her eyes, then closes them, her muscles relaxing. Her head tips back, and suddenly all of her throat is on show, and it’s like she’s _asking_ for Sara to lean down, to press a kiss there, to open her lips and let a tiny bit of tongue slip through.

And maybe she _was_ asking for it, because she sighs, smiles, smiles more when Sara kisses up her throat, over her jaw, kisses her mouth, kisses the blood away, wipes the rest away with her thumb, soft fingertips rubbing at her skin.

Ava’s hands come to rest in the small of Sara’s back, pressing their bodies together. Sara doesn’t have to ask before she’s switching her position a little, a knee nudging in between Ava’s legs, pressing her further and further into the mat, rolling her hips against Ava’s.

She grins as Ava moans a little into the kiss, as Ava squirms underneath her.

“Bed?” Sara suggests, whispering into Ava’s ear. “My room or yours?”

Her hand is pressed up against Ava’s stomach, and she can feel it flexing and tensing, muscles tightening, want pulsing through both of them.

“Neither.”

Sara pulls back, slightly, concerned. “You too sore, babe? Did I go too far? Did I hurt you too much? We don’t have to do anything more than this, if you don’t want.” Ava rolls her eyes, pulls Sara back down against her. “We can stop if you want, Ava, we don’t have to—”

Her words dissolve into mumbles as Ava kisses her again, as she reaches down towards Sara’s hand, grips onto it, and then slowly slides it further down her stomach, towards the waistband of her yoga pants.

It’s her fingers dragging over Ava’s abs, and if Sara wasn’t already ridiculously hot for this, she’s even more so now.

“I don’t want us to move,” Ava whispers in Sara’s ear. “I want us to stay right here.”

“You want—“ Sara’s words are choked off as her fingers reach Ava’s waistband, as she presses below the fabric, hits bare skin, and then the tiniest of strips of fabric. “Fuck,” she gasps out, turning her head, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to control herself, trying to hold back in the face of Ava practically begging her without words, in the face of Ava _asking_ for what she wants so much more explicitly than she usually does—and asking for something that Sara is _desperate_ to do. “We shouldn’t do it— we shouldn’t do it here. Someone could—“

“Shh,” Ava says. “Isn’t this your fantasy? Us. Here. Where anyone could walk in.”

Sara laughs, pressing her forehead against Ava’s. “I mean. Sure. But, like you said, anyone could walk in. I'm their captain. I can't traumatise them like that.”

“No-one’s going to walk in,” Ava murmurs, and, for some reason, Sara believes her, knows that no-one’s going to find them.

Still, the idea that they _could_ sends a frisson of energy through her whole body, energy that she can’t hold in any longer. “Yeah. Okay. Yeah. Yeah,” she says, nodding frantically, leaning down to kiss Ava again, deep and warm and desperate.

“Yeah?” Ava asks, her eyes darkening.

Sara nods again, and then Ava’s sitting up, pulling her pants down with trembling hands, until Sara stops them with her own, carefully takes them the rest of the way, finally chucking them behind her when they fall off of Ava’s legs, before pushing Ava back down into the mat, kissing her again, teasing her mouth open, licking inside.

At the same time, her hand finally moves low enough, slides over the scrap of lace that Ava has decided counts for underwear today, pushes the crotch aside, and presses two fingers inside of her with no hesitation, grinning against Ava’s mouth as she feels her so ready for her, feels her gasp, feels her try to arch her back off of the mat.

“You never wear underwear like this,” she murmurs, as she slowly moves her fingers inside of Ava. “Why today?”

“Because you wanted me to,” Ava gasps out, and it doesn’t quite make sense, because Sara’s never expressed that particular want out loud, but she ignores the confusion she’s feeling, because Ava is so warm and so wet and she’s already clenching around Sara’s fingers, asking for more without words. Sara adds another finger and Ava’s gasps stop, replaced by a moan, by a full body shudder that Sara feels against her, that spurs her on, speeds her up.

Ava’s hands are fisting in Sara’s hair, pulling it out of the ponytail it’s in, and her kisses are getting messier and messier, sometimes missing Sara’s mouth completely, and Sara loves it.

Loves when Ava’s completely broken down, when she’s no longer prim and proper but a writhing mess below Sara, nothing but sex and sweat and sounds escaping her mouth that aren’t even words, just pure desire, loving babbles that are music to Sara's ears.

Sara moves her mouth back to the base of Ava’s neck, sucks down a hickey, watching the skin go red underneath her lips. And then she moves further up, begins to suck another one, and Ava doesn’t stop her.

She always stops her at the second one, especially one as high up on her neck as this one, and Sara’s worried for a second that Ava’s too lost in the feeling to notice, so she checks. “Can I keep going? Is this okay? The— your neck?”

Ava nods. “Yes. Fuck. Yes. Do it. Do it. Show them I’m— I’m yours.”

At that, Sara groans, because she’s nothing if not possessive, but she usually refrains from any sort of talk like that, for fear of setting Ava’s clone anxiety off.

But if Ava started it…

“You’re mine. Mine. You’re _mine_.” She almost growls it, and she’s speeding up her hand even further, and Ava has to be close, she has to be, because she’s almost non-verbal, her mouth open in silent pleasure, her body tensing up, her eyes squeezed shut, her hands clutching onto Sara's hair as she lays her mouth on Ava's skin, applying so much pressure it almost has to hurt. “Baby,” Sara whispers, once there’s another red mark blooming on Ava’s neck. “You close?”

Ava just nods.

Sara smiles, kisses, the marks, kisses Ava’s jaw, her chin, finally, her mouth, and then presses a thumb down on Ava’s clit, rubbing gently, and Ava falls apart like that, shaking into pieces underneath Sara’s body. It feels a little like, if Sara hadn’t had her pinned down, she would’ve floated away.

“I love you,” Ava says, her voice quiet. “I love you. Fuck. I love you so much, Sara.”

The words stir something inside of Sara—but it’s something a little sad, so she ignores it, and only listens to the part of herself that tells her she needs to hear Ava say that again, and again, and again. “I love you too,” she whispers, then closes her eyes, and says, “Say it again. Say it again, Ava, please. I need to hear it, I need—”

Ava does, pulling Sara close, whispering it against Sara’s cheek. “I love you. I love you. I love you. Always. Forever. I love you. I love you. Nothing's going to change that. I love you." She's just mumbling it into Sara's skin, over and over and over again and it's not enough, but when Ava finally slumps back against the mat, going silent, Sara accepts that she's too exhausted to keep going—but feels safe knowing she would've kept going as long as Sara had needed her to.

Slowly, Sara pulls her fingers out, setting Ava’s panties back in place, stroking gently over Ava’s skin as she comes down.

Eventually, Ava’s eyes flutter open, and then they close again, a groan escaping the back of her throat when she sees Sara sucking her fingers into her mouth. “Fuck, Sara. That’s too. You’re so— fuck. How do you—“ And then, once again she gives up trying to form words.

Sara laughs, softly, and then Ava wipes some hair out of her face, bites her lip as she looks up at Sara, and Sara can’t hold in a gasp.

“What?” Ava asks, anxiety evident on her face.

“Nothing. Nothing. I just,” Sara reaches down, tucks the hair Ava had just swept aside behind Ava’s ear. “You realise that you’re literally the most beautiful woman in the entire world when you look like this, right?”

Ava scoffs, a blush appearing on her cheeks. “I look like shit. I’m all sweaty and red and blotchy and—”

“So. Fucking. Beautiful,” Sara says, leaning down, punctuating each word with a kiss to Ava’s face, cradling it in her hands. “And you don’t think I love knowing that the reason you’re all red and sweaty is because of me? I love it.”

Ava rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Of course you do.”

“You’re all shiny and pretty and”—she ducks her head, presses her mouth to Ava’s shoulder, lets her tongue slip out between her lips, licks a wet line down over her collarbone, down further, to where her breasts just begin to swell, following the trace of a bead of sweat, down, down, until she's stopped by Ava's sports bra—“and you taste so good.” She pulls away just enough to see the blush she was waiting for rise up on Ava’s face. “You taste so good _everywhere._ ”

At that, Ava pushes herself up onto her elbows. “You know, all this talk of _tasting_ gives me an idea,” she says, before finally sitting up properly, her hands wrapping around Sara, clasping together in the small of back.

Sara raises an eyebrow. “You want me to go down on you? Because I can totally do that.”

Ava rolls her eyes. “You’ve literally _just_ done me. You really think I’m asking for more?”

Sara shrugs, knows a fond smile is plastered on her face. “I mean, I wouldn’t complain. I might even…” she leans in close, lowers her voice, “...enjoy it.”

Ava laughs, the sound echoing through the room. “And that,” she says, reaching out a hand to tap Sara’s nose with her finger, “is one of the many reasons why I love you. But, no. I was talking,” she trails her finger lower, twirling some of Sara’s hair around it, “about you.”

Sara presses her lips together, tilts her head. “Oh. You want to do _me_?”

“I mean,” Ava says, rolling her eyes again, “that’s usually how it works.”

“Okay, fair,” Sara says. “You wanna do it in here?”

Ava shakes her head. “I refuse to get my tongue _that_ close to this floor. No way.”

Sara laughs again, finally scrambles out of Ava’s lap, pushes herself up. She holds a hand out to Ava, pulling her up as well, until they’re toe to toe, Sara’s hand resting briefly on Ava’s waist, before breaking away, leaning down to scoop up Ava’s yoga pants, chucking them at her. Ava pulls them on, and Sara grabs her hand again, pulling her out of the gym.

“My room?” Sara asks.

Ava nods. “Sure.”

They manage about six steps down the corridor before Sara’s slamming Ava up against the wall, kissing her again. There’s something about tonight that has her desperate, has her needy and wanting to kiss Ava as much as possible, wanting to slide her hands over every inch of her skin, wanting to feel her.

Wants to feel her mouth, hot against her, and if she wants that, they need to keep moving, but she doesn’t want them to break apart, so she just pulls Ava down the hallway, blindly moving backwards and kissing and holding onto Ava like if she stops touching her for one second she’s going to die.

They’re hitting walls as they move around the ship, and maybe Sara should be worried about how they haven’t bumped into anyone yet, how no-one has noticed them crashing through the corridors of the Waverider, but all she’s thinking about is Ava, about how warm she is, about how good she smells, about how soft her fingertips are as they dig into Sara’s skin.

There’s just one more corner to turn before they get to her room, and Sara’s so ready for it that it’s ridiculous, is already feeling a little like she’s going to come the second Ava touches her, and then they burst through a door, and they’re in the bridge.

Sara pulls back, confused. Ava’s lips are so swollen it’s making it hard to concentrate, but she shakes her head, trying to think straight.

“How did we miss my room?” she asks.

Ava doesn’t answer for a second, just pushes her backwards, across the floor. “We didn’t.”

“Baby, that doesn’t make sense. We should’ve gone straight past it. How did we end up here?”

Ava pushes her up against the console, kissing down her neck. Sara’s fingers grip the edge, her knuckles turning white as her vision blurs a little at how good it feels.

“Because you wanted to be here,” Ava says, against Sara’s skin.

Sara has no idea why Ava keeps saying that. She thinks about it for a second, but then she’s twisting her head, glancing over at the captain's chair, and suddenly she’s throbbing at the thought of Ava between her legs _there_ , that symbol of her power and her leadership and how far she’s come, and it’s all she can think about.

It’s like Ava can read her mind, because she gently removes Sara’s fingers from the console, walks her backwards, until they hit the chair.

“You want me here?” Ava whispers, her voice low, dripping with sex. “You want me on my knees?”

A full body shudder runs through Sara at those words. Ava’s fingers slide underneath Sara’s waistband, slowly pulling the fabric down over her hips.

“You want to think of me every time you sit here? Think of me like… this?” Ava says, sinking to her knees as she pulls the pants down, letting Sara balance on her while she steps out of the legs. She threads her fingers through Ava’s hair, takes in Ava’s face, her lips parted, her cheeks red, her eyes wide, and there’s nothing she can do except stumble and fall into the chair.

Ava smiles, presses a kiss to the inside of Sara’s knee. “That’s a yes?”

“Yes. Yes. Fuck, Ava, it’s a yes. I need— I need—“

She needs Ava’s mouth, pretty and pink and so perfectly shaped for breaking Sara apart on the exact way she likes best.

She needs her tongue, long and wet and more talented than it has any right to be.

“Sure?” Ava asks, kissing further up Sara’s thigh, before tugging Sara forward a little, hooking one of Sara’s legs over her shoulder. She pauses her mouth inches from Sara’s centre, looking up at her.

“Yes,” Sara sighs, closing her eyes. “Please.”

The second Ava’s mouth hits her, it’s electric. It’s somehow better than usual, like she hasn’t had this in ages, like she’s been starving for this, but that’s not right, that doesn’t make sense, or, maybe it does. She’s reaching out for a half formed memory when Ava’s tongue slips inside of her, and she loses all ability to think about anything, to do anything except grip down on Ava’s hair, to sigh out a satisfied, “Ava,” to writhe and buck and wonder how she got as lucky as she did to have someone like Ava loving her.

Ava responds to Sara with a squeeze of her hands, working in deeper. Every flick of her tongue is heavenly. Every touch of her lips is like she’s ascended. Everything is perfect and she’s spiralling, higher and higher and she can feel from the way Ava has sped up that it’s obvious she’s close. There are whimpers escaping her mouth, sounds she hardly ever lets herself make, but Ava, here, today, has her wanting to be vulnerable, wanting to show her every part of herself, to be open and honest, to shower her in love, whispering, “I love you,” over and over again.

She’s close, she’s so so close, and then she closes her eyes, waiting for the climax—and realises why she’s so desperate, why it feels like this hasn’t happened in weeks.

Because it hasn’t.

Her eyes snap open, and she’s on her bed.

Alone.

Ava isn’t next to her. Hasn’t been ever since the argument at the Bureau.

For a second, she considers calling up Ava, begging her to end the argument, to come over here and touch her until all the pain goes away, until she can curl into her arms, breathe in her scent, clutch onto her like she desperately wants to.

She doesn’t, obviously.

Instead, she reaches downwards, and finishes in seconds, face pressed into the pillow, Ava’s name on her lips, tears falling from her eyes as her whole body shakes.

Later that morning, she drinks ice water with the rest of them, jokes and teases and laughs. Tries to pretend that she’d had a good night, and not... what she’d had.

Which was the worst night’s sleep she’s had in the weeks since she stopped going to bed with Ava’s arms around her.

Except, it wasn’t, not really. In some ways, it had been the best night since Ava had told her to leave. She’d slept through the night. It had been perfect, her dreams everything she needed, everything her mind was desperately craving—Ava close, ceding to Sara’s every whim, and, above all, loving her.

And that’s the worst thing of all. It had been perfect.

And it wasn’t real.

She’s not sure if it will ever be real again.


End file.
